


haul away your anchor

by ollie_oxen_free



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Mentions of sex work, Other, Pining, Reader is Nonbinary, essy if youre reading this then youre a dummy ha ha get owned, general pirate tomfoolery and violence, i think ive covered most of my bases here, its just rated M for the language and general themes, mentions of slavery/slave trading, no sex here im afraid, pirate AU (sorta), seaswap, seaswap belongs to a good friend of mine who let me write something using the characters, this is mostly a fun fic and any more serious mentions arent there for very long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22546669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollie_oxen_free/pseuds/ollie_oxen_free
Summary: a skeleton pirate walks into a bar. you work at that bar. there's no punchline to this joke.
Relationships: Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, seaswap papyrus/reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	haul away your anchor

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this with permission from a friend from their AU so none of this is mine because im uncreative! this was supposed to be porn however i suck ass at porn so have some pirate romancing and pining!

Pirates were just part of the way of life where you lived.

The bar you worked at- a cover for more scandalous deeds, you knew, but it paid well and kept food on the table, and anyone of the law knew better than to mess with your boss (who had many, many friends in high places)- was close to the port, nestled in between stalls selling goods from far away. In the day, when you would walk to your shift, it was busy and beautiful, jewels shining in front of merchants who smiled wider if you drifted too close, their hands gripping the handles of their knives much tighter, silks in brilliant colors swaying in the breeze that came off from the sea, dozens of different languages rapid firing between merchant and buyer. It was chaotic and colorful, one of your favorite parts of the day.

You were walking to your work, weaving through the crowd, when you happened to glance up at one of the stalls, hearing a slight commotion. 

Monsters weren’t uncommon, necessarily, but you’d never seen a skeleton one before.

He was draped in jewels and billowing clothes, sleeves loose and flowing and the folds of his skirts nearly reaching the ground. He must have been arguing with the merchant, his arm flying up to the side, wrist flicking to the sky. The exaggerated motion made the belts at his waist clink together against the corset cinched around his waist, the long sword buckled to one side swaying back and forth.

“That’s far too much, lad.”

You heard the merchant snort. “I’m sure everything’s expensive to a pirate. That’s the price. Take it or leave it.”

The skeleton hummed a quick tune, something that was vaguely familiar, before he stopped with a chuckle. “S’a shame. Especially since I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it on- oh, who was it?” He shifted in place, leaning to the side, and you were able to see the merchant’s face, suddenly pale. “Ah, right. Me.”

He leaned forward and plucked what you could now see was a ring from the bench, looking over it critically before slipping it on his finger. “N’ really,” he said, tone chiding, “if yer gonna sell somethin’ you stole from a pirate you should at least make sure they’re long gone back ta sea beforehand..”

The merchant looked away, a slight tremor running over their form. The pirate hummed again, looking over the wares, before he picked up a small necklace, a delicate gold chain decorated with tiny jewels. “I think I’ll be takin’ this too. Fer my troubles.”

The merchant said nothing, and you were about to leave when the skeleton turned to you, staring for a moment before giving a charming smile and a wink. You turned and sped away to the pub, embarrassed to have been caught staring at a stranger. As you walked you silently scolded yourself for letting yourself get distracted, weaving through the crowd once again.

You got a stern look from your fellow worker when you walked in late, but it was a busy time of day, those from the streets seeking shelter from the hot sun and something to drink, so they just waved you to the side, letting you start bringing ale around to tables, taking coins here and there as they were tossed at you.

You were so focused on your work, trying to keep the already drunk mix of pirates and street goers happy- because god knows the last thing you need on any day is a drunken riot to start because you didn’t bring someone their drink fast enough- that you didn’t notice a specific skeleton working their way in, plopping down on one of the stools by the bar. When you walked by, glancing up casually, you had to do a double-take, the skeleton from earlier leaning on the wood, propping his head in his hands. 

He winked at you. “Yer finest wine, please.”

You stared at him for a moment, though when he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a few coins, setting them on the counter, you nodded, swiping them into your pocket. You walked away, opening a hatch in the floor and climbing down the few short steps to the cellar, going to the back and pulling out one of the older bottles- the brand usually reserved if any nobles decided to lower themselves enough to come to the tavern- climbing back up and setting it in front of him with a large glass.

He thanked you, popping off the cork and peeling away the wax, pouring some into the glass. He took a sip as he looked at you. “Haven’t seen you round ‘ere before. Didja just float in?”

You shrugged, deciding to wipe off some of the many glasses that were piling behind the counter with a rag. “Traveled a bit, but got tired after a while. Settled down here a month or so ago,” you said. You set down the glass in your hands on the top of the counter, another of the workers grabbing it almost immediately to deliver more rounds. “Though I do have to question your ability to remember everyone here you’ve seen.”

His grin widened, somehow, sockets glinting with amusement. “Why? Ya think I’m too much of  _ bonehead?” _

You snorted, shaking your head. He seemed proud of that much, at least. 

The rings on his hand glinted in the dim light of the tavern as he reached into his shirt, pulling out a rather impressive pipe, the end carved into a skull. His other hand procured a flint, lighting the contents of the bowl and taking a few puffs before breathing out, the smoke flowing easily from his nose.

“Nah,” he finally said, answering your question. “But I come ‘ere often enough ta remember a few faces now ‘n then. ‘Sides,” he winked again, leaning forward slightly. The movement made the necklaces resting on his chest clink against one another. “I’d remember a face as nice as yers.”

You snorted again. It was certainly far from some of the piss poor courting you’d had in the past, but still not entirely impressive in its own right. You wiped down another mug, listening to the few voices you could hear in conversation around the tavern.

“I saw ya starin’ earlier,” he said, suddenly. You tensed, then forced yourself to relax, wiping off the mug in your hands. “Didja like the merchandise?” 

You choked on air, glancing over at him. Lazy wisps of smoke curled up from the pipe as he took a slow sip of wine, surprisingly elegant for a pirate. Despite yourself you glanced down at what you could see, taking in the corset that accentuated his waist, up to the flecks of discoloration over the bones of his face like stars. The side of your mouth quirked up in a grin, because this was a game you  _ could _ play. “Maybe I did.”

The corners of his sockets crinkled when he heard your answer, and he set down his glass. “Well, the prices ain’t worth it. I’ve seen many a merchant swindle some outta their coin fer jewels that’re not more’n just cut glass.”

You pursed your lips, slightly embarrassed again at the innuendo ignored. Though you did have to fight the grin that was threatening to creep onto your face.

“So, what’s the name, stranger?” He took a drag on the pipe after asking. The smell was strong, not tobacco, but something cloyingly sweet, like a mix of herbs and spices. You told him as he turned his head to the side, blowing out a ring of smoke. 

He stuck his hand out. Amused, you placed one of your own in his grasp, watching as he gave a bastardized curtsy from his place on the stool, holding his pipe in his teeth and lifting up the edge of his skirts with his free hand. “‘oh-knee,” he said around it. Then, releasing your hand and removing the pipe from his mouth, “Boney.”

You shook your head with a laugh, continuing to polish off the mugs. One of the women who worked there came up to the bar, a man with a flushed face and salacious grin clinging to her side. She stuck her hand out and, reaching down, you placed one of the keys for the rooms upstairs in her fingers, giving her a smile. She gave a quick one back, nudging the man to the side with her hip to lead him up the steps. You watched as they walked away before turning back to your work, continuing conversation with the skeleton at the bar.

“What brings you to the port?”

Boney took the glass in his hands, downing the rest of the wine before filling his glass again from the bottle, sipping at the deep red liquid. “Ah, ya know. Sellin’ treasures ‘n gettin’ supplies fer the next voyage. Plus, the cap’n’s fond’a a particular kinda firework ‘ere. Haven’t found another quite like it.” 

He lifted his hand up, whistling and then making an explosion sound, fingers waving in a mimicry of them, made more impressive by the various colors of gems decorated over the thin bones of his hand. A chuckle fell out of your mouth, unbidden.

“So you’ve got a crew?” You asked. A monster came up to the counter, half horse and half mer, wanting some ale. You grabbed a mug and filled it from the keg against the wall, handing it to him and taking his coin.

Boney didn’t answer until he walked away, sipping gently at his wine. “Yep. A  _ skeleton _ one at that.”

You glanced over at him, unamused. He grinned back, smug, blowing out another stream of smoke towards you, the air pushed through a gap in his teeth giving a barely-there whistle.

It went like that for a while, polite chatter that you didn’t really mind, questions tossed back and forth with the occasional play on words on his part. (It took a bit, but you’d managed to work in a joke of your own, and the excited flush over his face was almost worth the quick flurry of puns you received in return.) 

You’d thought that once he finished his bottle he would leave, but he just waved you over, placing down more coins- ones stamped with various insignias that you didn’t recognize, but still gold all the same- ordering another bottle of the same type. 

“S’gotta good flavor,” he said when you gave him a questioning look, but you didn’t hesitate beyond that, just taking and weighing the coins before hopping back down into the small cellar, grabbing another bottle.

He snuffed out his pipe when you set the new one in front of him, the ornately carved thing being tucked within the folds of his shirt quickly after, using the same knife as before to pop out the cork. It rolled to the edge of the counter towards you and you bent to catch it, tucking it into your pocket. 

Boney winked at you as he filled his glass once more, taking a large drink before letting out a satisfied sigh. The flush over his cheekbones was more prominent, now, slowly growing brighter as he drained the bottle. The slur in his speech was getting stronger, too, all the more obvious as his flirting words became louder. Something like worry curled in your chest.

You placed the cork back in the bottle, over half of it gone, watching Boney reach for it. He frowned when his hand closed around nothing, staring at the empty air for a moment before he turned to you. When he saw the bottle in your hands his eyes narrowed and he reached out an open palm for it. 

“You’re drunk,” you stated.

He pulled his hand back, frowning. “Ya callin’ me some kinda carouser? Tell ya what’s what, bucko, I m’be a bit squiffy but I ain’t ta the wind yet.”

You stared at him for a moment. “I’m not too sure what most of that means.”

He grumbled something under his breath, thumb scratching at his cheekbone. “I paid fer it, aye? C’mon, don’ be such a-” he said something else, probably insulting to you, but you just ignored it, pointedly setting the bottle out of his reach.

Normally, you wouldn’t care one way or another. The more you sold, the more money you got. Yet, as the conversation between the two of you went on, you noticed more than a few stares at the skeleton near you, and you’d become aware of just how much ‘treasure’ he very obviously had on him, reflecting the candlelight and the slowly fading sun that was filtering in through the windows.

“It’s probably best to keep your wits about you,” you decided to say. “You have quite a bit of  _ booty _ on you.”

You glanced over at him as you continued your work, watching his brow furrow, barely visible beneath the bright pattern of the bandana tied tight around his skull. The expression faded and he chuckled, eyes twinkling. “Aye, I see wha’ it tis. As flatterin’ as it tis havin’ a doll like yerself worry ‘bout me, I can handle my own.”

Shrugging, you leaned against the counter, looking at him. “I don’t see the reason to tempt fate, though.”

The twinkle in his eyes faded as he reached up, finger scratching the center of his forehead almost subconsciously, though the grin on his face remained. “I already fed th’ fish a while ago; I don’ see much’a a reason to be tha’ careful.”

The statement made you frown, though whether it was somehow truth or just another joke of the likes you weren’t sure. Before you were sure of what to say next you heard a shout from the front of the tavern, loud and boisterous.

Another skeleton stormed in, standing just inside the door. His chest was bare, the bones that were visible behind the sash over his chest broad. There were smudges of something dark over his hands and arms, like gunpowder. He looked around the room, seemingly unbothered by the stares of those around him, quiet until his gaze fell just to your left.

He shouted again, striding forward with an energy that made you feel tired just watching.

“BROTHER!” 

Despite being closer, his voice was just as loud. Boney didn’t seem to mind, turning to his ‘sibling’ and giving a lazy grin.

“Aye, bro?”

The other huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I BIN LOOKIN’ FER YA! NEARLY SHOVED OFF WI’OUT YA ‘TILL CHARON SAID YA AIN’T COME BACK FROM YER ‘WALK’!”

Boney winced, though it seemed more show than actual chagrin. “Ah, my bad, cap’n. Din’ mean ta lose the time. Guess m’just a  _ bonehead, _ aye?”

Captain? You looked over the other, confused at the dress. The loose canvas pants hardly seemed of the title, his feet bare and stark white against the dark floor.

“QUITE THA  _ NUMBSKULL,” _ the other agreed. He caught your staring, head tilting the slightest to the side before his grin became wider, arms falling to rest on the crests of his hips. “OH? AN’ WHO’S THIS?”

You gave a small wave, though before you could answer him Boney told him your name. The smaller of the two grinned at you, wide enough that it hurt your own face to see. “THE NAME’S PASS! HOPE THIS SCALLYWAG AIN’T BIN TOO MUCH TROUBLE FER YA!”

Boney made an affronted noise, hand splaying over the jewels decorating his collar. “Since when’ve I been any trouble?”

Pass slowly looked over at the other, saying nothing. Despite yourself you snorted, shaking your head. The bottle you set off to the side caught your eye, and when Boney stood at his brother’s prompting you handed it back over. He took it with thanks, tipping a non-existent hat at you.

“Safe travels,” you said. They both waved in return, working their way out of the bar and taking their energy with them. You stood there and watched them go until one of the regulars shouted your name, holding up her very empty mug in the air and waving it wildly.

Despite the tavern being filled with people, something about the atmosphere seemed almost lonely.

* * *

You didn’t expect to see them again, since most of the pirates that came in tended to leave just as fast, never wanting to stay in the same place for too long. So, when you heard a shout of your name from the entrance, the voice vaguely familiar, you expected to see one of the townsfolk who lived near the port, not a skeletal face smiling back at you.

“Boney?” You questioned. 

He curtsied, his thick skirts colorful, different than you remembered from the last time you saw him a month or so ago. “Tha one ‘n only,” he responded. 

His sockets glimmered as he looked up at you from his dipped position before standing to his full height, mischief in them. The skirts flowed around him as he sat at the bar with a flourish, the few others on the stools glancing at him from the sides of their eyes. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, fingers waving in the air before doubloons appears between each of them. He set them on the counter and you swept them up.

“Wine, right?”

“Aye,” he said with a nod.

Slightly proud of yourself for remembering, you walked down the steps to the cellar, grabbing one of the nicest bottles and setting it in front of him alongside a glass. The cork went flying with a pop, off somewhere where you couldn’t see it. You considered hunting for it for a moment, but quickly shrugged the thought off. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Boney filled the glass and drank deeply, finishing with a satisfied sigh. You fought not to roll your eyes at the exaggerated reaction. You preferred a good ale, yourself, a different kind of flavor as compared to the sharp bitterness of wine. 

It had been a while of you standing at the bar, so you made your rounds, checking on those drinking and filling mugs and glasses, gathering some extra coin. When you came back to the bar, wiping your hands on your shirt, you grinned at Boney. 

“It’s been a while, stranger,” you said. He glanced at you over the rim of the glass, curious. “Got any decent tales?’

His grin widened and he set down the glass, crossing his legs and pulling out his pipe. The flint clicked softly as he lit the bowl, puffing on the contents before breathing out a cloud of smoke. “Aye, a few, if yer willin’ ta listen.”

You leaned your hip on the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well, go on then. Unless you think they’re too boring?”

Boney smirked, puffing on the pipe. “Borin’? Me? Nah, tis impossible. I’ve spent too much time gallavantin’ ‘round the seven seas to be thought of as borin’, ‘specially by a landlubber like you.”

You raised a brow, the corner of your mouth quirking up, waiting.

Sure enough, the story he told was anything but boring. His voice had a lilt to it, easily projecting the words and rising and falling with the mood. A navy ship, he’d said, that they’d come across in the dead of night. By the time the alarm had sounded upon the other, they’d been boarded, and the fight had started. It had turned out to be a slave ship, he said. Something flickered in his eyes, angry and dark, but was gone as soon as it came. They’d taken the goods and the  _ people, _ he had emphasized, the grip on his pipe tightening enough that you could see a faint glow of orange at his joints, before sailing into the night, taking them home.

Boney sighed with a wistful look on his face, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “They had silks in the cargo, ‘n though tha capt’n had a stern word wit’ me, they were downright heavenly to sleep in.”

You snickered, the image of his brother- Pass, if you remembered correctly- yelling at Boney as he slept on expensive silk too much not to.

Boney took a sip of his drink, opening his mouth as if to tell another tale, when a human stumbled up to the bar. The smell of ale was strong as he spoke, and you recognized him as one of the regulars, spending all his coin on drinks before stumbling out only to do the same the next day.

“I’ve seen ya b’fore,” he slurred, leaning in close to the skeleton at the bar.

Boney took a puff on his pipe, meeting his gaze. Despite the threatening aura, he didn’t seem concerned. “Tha’ so? Can’t say I recognize ya.”

The man continued speaking, ignoring the other. “Seen yer face on a bounty poster,” he said. “Dead ‘r alive.”

Boney grinned. Before he could speak you hopped over the counter, stepping between the two of them. You put a hand on the drunk’s chest and pushed him back slightly, meeting his hazed gaze. 

“You know the policy,” you said. He looked down at you but you just stared back, even as he scowled. “You want  _ her _ on your ass? Be my guest. But you’ll have to go through me first.”

He stared at you for a few more moments before he scoffed, his breath strong enough that it made your eyes water, and turned, stumbling out onto the street. When you turned back around you saw Boney, half standing but quickly sitting back down. Not fast enough for you to miss the hand that was gripping the handle of the knife strapped to his waist, at least. You couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face, but you just shrugged it off, walking back around behind the bar.

The room was quiet for a long moment after that, but slowly voices faded back in until it was the same amalgamation of conversations that you couldn’t pick out more than a few words from. Across the room, a table started up in a slurred shanty, those who knew the words joining in. Boney stayed silent, though, streams of smoke drifting from the gap in his teeth as he took sips of wine. You could feel his gaze on you, but whenever you looked up to meet it he looked away, leaving you unable to catch him in the act.

“Seem’s ya’ve gotten a name ta yerself, aye?”

It was a shock to hear his voice out of nowhere, but it made you relieved for some reason, much better than the silence from earlier. You shook your head with a laugh, shrugging it off. “Supposedly. I don’t quite have a bounty on my head, though.”

Boney grinned, lifting his glass to you. “Try goin’ on account. Guarantee you’ll have one by th’ end’a th’ month.”

A bit of the wine from the overfilled glass sloshed over, landing on the wood of the bar. It quickly soaked into the grooves, mostly disappearing from sight. “I may have thrown a few drunks out on their asses in my time, but I’d hardly make a decent pirate.”

“Ah, I ain’t too sure ‘bout that, lad. First step ta bein’ a pirate is not takin’ slack from nobody.”

“Oh?” You asked. “And what’s the second?”

“Plunderin’ fer booty.”

You laughed, the urge to tell him that you were certain most tended to enjoy treasure resting on your tongue. You held back the words, though, stepping from behind the counter and working your way around the room, taking up coin as you served those around you.

Almost as soon as you came back to the counter, one of the women who walked their way around the tables came up to you, trailing a man behind her. You gave her the keys to her room and watched them walk upstairs, ensuring everything was alright before you went back to your work.

When you glanced up, Boney was staring at you once more. This time, he didn’t look away. “So, ‘s this a…”

He waved his hand in the air, partially gesturing at the rooms upstairs. You glanced to where the stairs became hidden by the wall, then shrugged. “No, not quite. It’s just a safe place for them. They get a place to stay and us throwing clients on their asses, if need be, and the boss gets a small cut of the pay in return.”

“So,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Ya got a room too?”

You grinned, meeting his gaze. “Why? You offering to pay?”

“What? Pay? Yer tellin’ me I ain’t gonna get a discount?”

You laughed and ignored the heat cropping up on your cheeks, your pulse going heavier. Leaning down so your face was a few inches from his, you smirked. “For you? The price is double.”

The other’s raucous laughter attracted a few glances, but you were too proud to care.

* * *

The mead burned your throat as you drank it, the crisp sting and the accompanying sweetness making you sigh as you set your glass down. The honey taste lingered as you hummed, licking the remaining drink from your upper lip. Most of the drinks here tended to be strong, you’d found, and you were already feeling the start of a buzz in your mind when you heard your name, the voice all too familiar from the past few months.

You looked to the side with a grin, watching Boney sit beside you. A hat adorned his head, a brightly colored feather sticking up from the side. He tipped it at you before he took it off, snatching the feather up and tucking it into the folds of his bandana where it usually stood. You lifted your drink to him in return, smiling.

It was always nice to see him, the two of you falling into a sort of schedule for these times. Him and his brother visited often, the frequency enough that sometimes you wondered just how much ‘pirating’ they were able to really get done, seeing him trot in about once a month, his face always lighting up when he laid eyes on you. You’d grown fond of the back and forth of the past few months, the quick wit of the other and his presence enough to make you hope that he would show up when you were working.

He waved one of the workers over, ordering a wine by a name you’d never heard of before waving them off.

“So,” he said, peeling the wax seal and picking the cork out, pouring a glass for himself. “I take it ya ain’t workin’ t’night?”

“Nah,” you said into your mug. “I get the night to drink myself into a stupor, I’m afraid.”

Boney laughed, leaning to the side. The motion made the necklace laying on his collar- an assortment of pearls, all a near-perfect white- shift to the side, hanging off his shoulder. You frowned at it, then, in your drunken state of mind, reached to touch it, gently moving it so it rested neatly against his sternum once more. You only noticed that you’d leaned in, your hand still resting on his chest, when he let out an amused huff, his breath brushing over your face. It smelled faintly of wine.

You leaned back, feeling your face begin to heat up and cursing yourself silently, hiding your face behind the rim of the mug. 

“Feelin’ a bit squiffy, there?”

“Ah, shove it,” you muttered. “Like you haven’t stumbled outta here more than once.”

Boney laughed at your griping. “Ain’t nothing wrong with it.” He shifted, turning to you and lifting his glass. His face was flushed a light orange, the color making the freckles on his cheekbones stand out darker.

“Like ya said,” he whispered to you, almost conspiratorially, “I tend ta like ta edge on the right side of drunk.”

You snorted and, despite the fact that it was far from custom, you lifted your own mug to tap against his glass, the two of you sharing a grin.

“So,” you started, leaning back from the edge of the bar, “got any more tales to regale me with? They don’t gotta be true.” You nudged him with your elbow. “Just entertaining.”

“Entertainin’, huh?” He looked up at the ceiling in mock thought. “Aye, I can do that. N’they won’t just be fisherman’s tales neither.”

He grinned down at you, turning with that charming smile towards you fast enough that the jewels hanging over his bones swung with the motion. 

Boney proved he could tell a story with the best of them, his voice falling into a near whisper at the tense parts and rising with confidence when detailing times of daring. Explosions, and swordfights, and near death misses and finding treasure, all told by a voice you’d come to hold a terrible fondness for through the past few months.

When he finished he looked at you, grin half-cocked as if seeking your approval. Your mind wandered, for a moment, gaze stuck on the thin gap between his front two teeth and what it would feel like if you leaned forward and pressed your lips to it. The thought quickly left your mind, though, when his stare became a little more confused. Before he could speak you snorted, quickly taking a drink to hide your grimace at your thoughts that had run slightly rampant.

“Sounds like a sailor’s tale to me.”

Boney’s eyes narrowed, the corner of his grin sharp. “Oh really?”

You shrugged, the final roots of the thought slipping away as you fell into a more familiar back and forth. “Truly.” At his glare, you grinned. “Don’t get me wrong. It was entertaining! But the part about a ‘cursed blade?’” You shrugged, moving to quench your thirst.

He watched you take another drink, his gaze intense, though you pretended to not notice. The stool skidded back as he stood with a huff. You watched him with amusement, though your half-smile quickly fell as he grabbed your arm and lifted you from your own seat, making you shout in surprise.

“What the hell,” you said, “you nearly made me spill my drink!”

Boney made eye contact with you as he reached for the mug, pulling it out of your hands to set on the bar. “We’re goin’. Come on then!”

You stumbled after him as he marched you both out of the bar, squinting when the doors opened to let the fading sun shine directly into your eyes. The grip on your arm released and you rubbed at your face, squinting up at the skeleton looking expectantly down at you. 

“Well?”

You swore under your breath, rubbing your eyes once more before forcing yourself to squint in the light, meeting his gaze. “‘Well’ what?”

“Ya plannin’ on lettin’ me prove my story to ya, or would ya rather blink in th’ sun like a babe?” He reached his arm out, as if to pet your head, but you pushed his hand away with a glare.

“You dragged me away from my drink to prove a point?”

“Sure did! N’ I’ve done more fer smaller reasonings, in tha past.” Boney winked at you, placing his hat back on his head and pulling it down, firm. When he twisted on his heel the skirts he were wearing swirled around him, the very edges of the cloth whipping against your shins. You stared after him as he began to walk away, thinking over your options. A quick pat on your pocket let you know that you were nearly out of coin to begin with, so you gave a put-upon sigh as you left the tavern after him, the gaudy hat and slight sway to his steps making it easy to follow him, bright feather sticking up from the brim like a beacon.

You caught up to him just as the crowd of those who lived near the port thinned out, replaced by the sea-faring type. There was the slightest hint of fish in the air, fresh caught and laid in droves on tables, though the sea breeze that swept the hair from the edges of your face kept the stench from lingering too long. The mass of people and monsters around the two of you seemed to give a wide berth, some with slight nods but others with a more heavy gaze. Boney hardly appeared bothered by it, if he was at all, the heels of his boots making quiet thuds against the cobble path.

The stone paths gave way to a small patch of hard-packed dirt, and then wood, and then the two of you were making your way down the port’s extensive docks. You stuck close to Boney as he wove his way around the maze of wood and ships, skirting past fishing vessels and cargo boats, back further than you knew the docks even went. When the other finally stopped you nearly ran into his back. You stopped just short of making that kind of fool of yourself, instead deciding to be an entirely different kind of fool by gawking at the ship Boney proudly gestured at.

“Careful there, lad. You’ll catch flies wit’ yer mouth hangin’ open like that.”

You shot him a half-glare but dutifully closed your mouth, going back to looking at the ship in a slightly more subtle fashion. 

It was huge. One of the larger ships you had seen, the masts rising high up in the sky. The sails were folded down, but the corners would catch the wind and billow out every so often, whipping towards the shore. On the bow of the ship you could see a figurehead, a skeleton carved from wood with one arm reaching out to the sea.

Something nudged your side, breaking you out of your watch. “It’s prettier up close, y’know.”

You hummed, walking towards the ship and leaving Boney to speed up beside you. “And I’m certain you have no bias at all, hm?”

He laughed, swinging an arm over your shoulder. The sudden shift nearly made you stumble but you caught yourself, letting the arm stay. He smelled like spices and wine. Distantly, you wondered just how much he’d actually had to drink, but your memory was a bit addled by your own vices. 

“If I had a heart, ya’d be breakin’ it.”

You snorted. “Didn’t know you were so sensitive.” You nudged his open side gently, peering at him from the corner of your eyes.

“I’ve never had tha thickest skin.”

At that you laughed, shaking your head. 

He took his arm away with a look of pride as you approached the ship. The wind, previously blocked by his arm, blew against the back of your neck, a refreshing chill. The gangplank was propped against the side of the ship, the wood of the ramp damp from the ocean spray. Boney stepped to the side when you reached the bottom, citing that it’d be best if he went after to “make sure yer drunken self doesn’t fall.” You held back on telling him that you were far from a lightweight and that he was just as, if not more so, drunk, starting up the sea-slickened wood and over the railing.

Your feet landed with a thud on the deck. It was odd, standing on something that was moving. You’d ridden horses before, had stood in carts and carriages, but it was different than the slow rocking with the waves that the boat caused. For a moment, it almost seemed as if the ship itself was breathing with the waves, alive in some strange way. Then a pair of boots thudded on the deck beside you and the thought was gone, carried away by the breeze.

“Ya alright, there? If yer gonna cast up your drink try ta run ta th’ edge first.”

Though the words seemed concerned, his tone was far from it, an edge of laughter in his voice. “If I ‘cast up’ anything it’s going on you.”

Boney laughed, straightening his hat. “Fair enough. Come on then! Daylight’s burnin’!”

With that he walked past you, leaving you to turn and trail behind. You followed after him until he led you to a labeled door. On it was scrawled CAPTAIN’S QUARTERS in all caps, with the first marked out with a thin line of paint and replaced with a delicate calligraphy of “Boney.”

“You’re the captain?” Last you knew, Pass had been the captain, however unfitting his dress seemed.

Boney snorted, like the idea was ridiculous. “‘Course not. Th’ cap’n jus’ prefers ta sleep in tha crow’s nest. And so.” He reached his arm out, pulling the door to his quarters open and dramatically gesturing inside. “I laid my claim.”

It was mostly dark in the cabin, the light from the open door just enough to make out the general shape of the room and furniture. Boney stepped past you, going to a dresser that you didn’t see and lighting a lantern. The room flooded with dim light, showing an eclectic mess around the whole room.

There were two large armoires against the back wall, one opened wide to reveal a large and neatly organized assortment of dresses and skirts, frills and bright colors that seemed nice enough to outfit royalty. The rest of the room wasn’t nearly as in place, chests at odd angles and filled with enough stuff to not fully close. To one side sat a huge bed, big enough to sleep five people, the wood frame reaching far above the mat to the ceiling, sheer curtains draping down. It seemed like almost every space on the wall and floor housed some kind of treasure or knickknack from around the globe. 

He walked further into the room, skirting the edge of the bed to approach a window seat set into the wall, pillows strewn all over the floor. He bent down to the floor, getting on his hands and knees as he reached under a gap beneath a dresser. You were far enough away that you couldn’t understand what he was muttering under his breath, but he gave a triumphant shout after a moment, standing and holding a long, thin wooden box, an ornate lock on the front of it.

He gestured for you to come closer as he moved to set it on the foot of his bed, a small key appearing in his hand to unlock it. You approached hesitantly, not sure what to expect of a ‘cursed’ sword. Would it fight on its own? Would a single nick to the flesh kill? Boney didn’t seemed concerned about it, only excited to show it off, so with a final glance at the door you stepped beside him as he opened it.

It was… a sword. Just a basic cutlass with a plain handle and a polished blade. 

“That’s it?” You said aloud.

The blade of the sword glowed a faint blue, and with a watery tone you heard your own voice echo back  _ “That’s it?” _

You blinked down at the sword, watching the glow fade away, before you turned to look at Boney. His grin was huge, face slightly flushed with excitement. “Neat, right?”

The sword echoed his words, the color traveling up and down the blade as he pulled it from the cushioned interior it sat in. 

“It… repeats what it hears?” You hadn’t finished your words before the blade started to speak again, making you furrow your brow in confusion. 

He took a few steps away from you with the sword in his hand, glancing around and behind him before he spun it in his hands, twirling it over his fingers and making the blade swish through the air.

“Intrestin’, ain’t it?”

“That’s a word for it,” you chuckled, watching as he finished twirling the sword to point it directly at you. The blade repeated what it had heard, filling the space in the room.

“Proof enough that I ain’t a liar?”

You laughed despite the cutlass pointed at your chest, no real threat in the air. “About this, at least,” you ammended. 

Boney seemed pleased by your words, letting the sword fall and moving to the box again, placing it back inside and shutting it. The moment the case closed the faint words it had been saying were cut off to silence, leaving just the distant sound of the waves and the creak of wood. With nothing to focus on now you both looked at each other, the atmosphere quickly growing in awkwardness.

You didn’t have to sit in it for long, though, a familiar voice and a new one both coming into hearing. Boney looked out the door with a fond grin, relocking the case and sliding it back underneath of the dresser. Afterwards he stood, making his way out of the door. You followed after him, making sure to reach over and turn off the lantern as you made your way out.

Sure enough Pass was standing on the deck, a stack of boxes taller than himself sitting beside him. He was looking over the railing, though, hands propped up on his hips and head tilted to the side.

“YA SURE YA’VE GOT IT?”

The other voice from earlier swore. They sounded young, not much older than 15. “I got it! Not all of us can carry twice our weight in supplies, ya know!”

Pass glanced over his shoulder as you both walked out. Something like shock passed over his face when he saw you, but it quickly faded as he just waved, the lights in the darkness of his sockets shining brighter. He turned back to the railing. “IF YA’D TRAIN WIT ME THEN YA WOULDN’ BE STRUGGLIN’ SO MUCH!”

“Fuck yer ‘trainin’!”

Their head came into view, reddish-brown hair tied back at the base of their neck, sharp cheekbones dotted over with freckles. They were struggling with a box, setting it on the edge of the railing with a grunt before hopping over onto the ship. Pass took it from them and slid it onto the top of the stack next to him, bending down and picking up the stack with ease. He carried it to the center of the ship and set it down, either not noticing or not caring about the tired glare the other human was giving his back.

Their gaze turned to you, bright red eyes looking you up and down. “Who tha hell’re you?”

You told them. They rolled their eyes, leaning back against the railing and crossing their arms. “Charon.” And then, narrowing their gaze. “Ya ain’t comin’ with us, are ya?”

You let out a laugh. “No. Just visiting. Boney had a sword he wanted to show me.”

Charon raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. Boney snorted, bending over with laughter. You looked between them both in confusion as Pass trotted back up, stopping beside Charon. They glanced at him and very obviously scooted over a step, grimacing when Pass took another step closer with a grin.

They seemed to think over taking another step away, or maybe jumping over the edge of the ship, but decided against it. “How come ya never let  _ me _ in yer room?”

“Well, buttercup, if ya wouldn’ constantly steal away my stores maybe I’d let ya.”

“Maybe if yer locks weren’t so easy ta pick,” they muttered.

Boney walked forward, reaching out as if to ruffle their hair. Charon easily dodged him, stepping to the side and turning to flip him off, their other hand resting on the handle of a dagger. You decided to turn to Pass as Boney followed after them with a grin, pretending not to hear the- rather impressive- series of curses coming from behind you.

“So I take it you all are heading out soon?”

Pass grinned wider, somehow, nodding his head. “WE’RE PLANNIN’ TA LEAVE ON THA ‘MORROW, SOON AS THA SUN RISES!”

Your gaze drifted up the mast to the large basin resting near the top. You supposed it would be easy to leave with the sun if you basically slept outside. “Your crew’s fine with such a short shore leave?”

Pass’s gaze drifted over your shoulder. Your own followed his, seeing Charon and Boney having an impromptu standoff. Their dagger was drawn, pointed at the other in a warding threat. Boney hardly seemed bothered by it, a half-grin cocked on his face. A grin that stayed until Charon muttered something under their breath, that is, eyes like embers darting to you for just a moment. The other said something in return, expression almost upset, too far away to be heard over the faint creaks of the ship and the waves hitting the hull.

“THIS  _ IS _ THA CREW!”

You turned back to him, confused. A three-man (or two-man and one child, you supposed) crew for such a large ship? It hardly seemed believable. You looked back over your shoulder for a moment, watching Charon give a quick lunge forward only to be easily disarmed by Boney, an ornate dagger appearing from seemingly thin air. Then again, you thought, there was a lot you didn’t truly know about them.

The sky had faded considerably since you had left the tavern, the last few rays of light scattered on the waves like gold. It would be dark soon, and night wasn’t the best time to be traveling near the port. Or anywhere in the city, really.

“Good luck on your travels, then, all of you.”

Pass furrowed his brow. “YER LEAVIN’ ALREADY? YA JUST GOT ‘ERE!”

The observation drew the other two over, Boney walking up to your side with Charon skirting a wide berth around the two of you, half-hiding behind Pass. It looked like they’d gotten their knife back, at least.

“Yer leavin’?”

You huffed out a laugh, looking up at the other. “Afraid so. I need to get home before it gets too dark.”

Boney smiled, tight. “Yeah, prob’ly.” He looked out over the docks towards the shore, something like confusion passing over his face. He seemed to be searching for what to say.

“Fer fucks sake,” Charon muttered. Then, louder, “Why don’t ya just go ahead ‘n ask ‘em ta s-”

Pass reached behind him, arm easily looping around their neck and pulling them down into a headlock, cutting off their words. They let out a loud stream of curses, most being rather creative ways they would ‘gut the two of them’ despite their lack of any real organs.

Their anger seemed to start Boney back into action, shifting in place to face you fully. 

“Guess I’ll see ya around, then?” Despite the casual nature it almost seemed like he was actually asking you, head tilted ever so slightly to one side.

You smiled. “Guess so.”

You waved at the other two who were still wrestling, though the only one who seemed to be putting in any actual effort was Charon, making your way to the edge of the ship.

Halfway down the gangplank you stopped, turning to look behind you. Boney met your eyes. “Don’t make me wait too long for more tales of adventure, pirate.” 

He grinned, a half-confident thing that hid a softer edge. “Wouldn’ dream of it, landlubber.”

With that you nodded and left. 

Despite the cool sea breeze there was a heat on your face that didn’t disappear until you’d long since returned home, a warmth in your chest that wouldn’t go away.

**Author's Note:**

> want more seaswap? try [here](https://seaswap.tumblr.com/)
> 
> seaswap's creator: [messedupessy](https://messedupessy.tumblr.com/)
> 
> come yell at me on my [tumblr](https://ollie-oxen-free.tumblr.com/) where i blog about my general interests among other things


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